


Nami: A Reflection in Eight Parts

by Maiko



Category: One Piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 07:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10329662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiko/pseuds/Maiko
Summary: Nami is a curiosity and a complex set of contradictions, and each of the Straw Hats have taken the time to reflect on her and what she means to them, and their crew.A little bit of a character study of my favorite One Piece redhead(Also posted on FF.Net under my other penname)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:  
> So, first let me say: I am not caught up on One Piece, I’m only at about episode 660. I started watching it about a year ago and it’s all still new to me.  
> *  
> But as someone who tells stories, I have found Nami to be particularly interesting for so many, many reasons, not many of which I’m going into.  
> *  
> I’ve also seen the fandom do her a little dirty. Dumbing her down, minimizing the complexity of her character and the relationships she has with various crew members. So I wanted to try and explore that.  
> *  
> I tried to keep to a lot of canon and how my mind interpreted these moments and these relationships based on what Oda has given us. I also added a few things that I think very well could have been part of Nami and her behavior patterns (remember, Oda said if she was in our world she probably would be a child caregiver. Which tells me a lot about her capacity for love and gentleness when it’s called for.)  
> *  
> And once again, I have no beta reader, so anything that’s weird or grammatically off, that’s all on me. I’ve read it through a number of times, but I’m pretty sure I’m at the point where I don’t know if I’d even SEE a mistake anymore.  
> Constructive crit is always welcome, and I’m down for a civilized discussion about any part of this or even how you may have interpreted any of these various aspects, but if you’re looking to pick a fight or tell me I’m Wrong, I’m not about that so you can miss me with it.  
> Cheers, all!

Luffy is the sun, bright and warm and life giving, center of the galaxy, gravitational pull towards him, fire and unknowable power, Luffy has always been the sun.

If Luffy is the sun of the Straw Hat Pirates, then Nami is the moon. The rest of the crew are planets and stars, caught in an endless dance, always pulled to the sun, energized and revived by the sun, lit and alive with the sun. Zoro, in a fit of universal irony, is their north star, never faltering, always there, steady and guarding, guiding strength.

But Nami is the moon, queen of the tides, dark and mysterious, her gentle light only a reflection of the glory that is Luffy, with a hidden side no one ever gets to see, changing faces and moods in an endless cycle. 

* * * * * * * * * 

 

Zoro notices the real Nami in time, and he had more to mull over than most, as he had not trusted her from the start, and took her betrayal personally. Zoro notices a lot more than he lets on. A lot more than he knows how to put into words. And he's not one for emotional revelations.

He had his reservations about her, thief that she was, he was angry when he first saw her at Arlong Park, acting haughty after the betrayal and theft of Merry. But her face when Arlong had spoken of her mother, when she'd saved him, set him free, they told him she was hiding a part of herself, the part that mattered most, that she was, in point of fact, acting.

Frankly, Zoro wasn't sure what to make of her until he learned her story, had seen the devastation on the faces of her town. Usopp’s stuttered story of how she'd saved his life when he'd been so quick to believe the worst, her gut - wrenching screams as she stabbed herself clean of Arlong’s mark of bondage and the strength it took to ask Luffy for help. That was when things started to become clear. 

The green haired swordsman may be emotionally stunted, but who can be stone cold against a child blackmailed into indentured servitude to the murderer of her mother? Who doesn't feel sympathy for the strain such tiny shoulders had to bear carrying the weight of all those lives, that entire island all on her own? Who looks at that and doesn't see how that would break a heart, leaving all the jagged pieces to cut her up inside?

Zoro isn't one to pull punches, so he'll call her witch till his dying day, but it's more an acknowledgement of her skills than an insult now. She worked magic to save her home, to try to protect the crew she felt she must abandon. She works her magic on the crew, in the weather, on the ship. 

It was even starting to be clear that it wasn't money she loved, it was the freedom and the guarantee it offered. 

Nami had been shackled to a debt that carried the balance of lives. A debt made one stay. She kept them all in debt to keep them near her, to make chains binding them together. If you paid attention during the breaths between battles you'd see, she doesn't think they'll stay, she doesn't think she deserves a place, she doesn't believe yet in the good. But she's starting to, slowly. The threats are less dire, the frequency lessening with each passing week.

Because of such a debt, such a life, she also understood that money meant freedom. Freedom from dominion of others. She knew what it took to keep them afloat, and even Zoro had to admit she spends most of the money on provisions and necessities. She kept them sailing, kept them fed, stocked and supplied. They'd be lost without her. She always sees eight steps ahead, one for every member of her crew. As it got bigger, her sight grew longer.

But still, she doesn't shine with her own light. She just reflects the light of their captain back onto them, as if it were all she could do. Bravado and fake tears, occasionally genuine joy. But always a weather eye on the horizon. 

He can't say he really gets it, his helplessness was in the face of death taking a single life before it's time, something he couldn't fight. Something he could only learn to carry, to honor. 

Her helplessness was in the face of the fact she survived. 

She'd lived so long in darkness, she didn't know how to live in the light. But these boys had come along and burned her prison to the ground and suddenly she was drowning in the sun. 

Nami was the moon, when you looked past all the bravado and wounds. She and the ocean were linked in a way none of them could comprehend. She had no goal to be queen of the pirates, but she was the queen of tides, and queen of their crew. Not that he'd ever, ever admit it, particularly not to that fox eyed witch.

* * * * * * * * * 

Usopp saw past Nami and her stone still facade the instant she stabbed her hand to save him. He didn't know if there was any word in any language for the look in her eyes, even before the pain of the blade through her hand clouded them. She was frantic, desperate to save everyone, and the only way you'd know is if you knew to study her eyes. Only luck and circumstance allowed him to be close enough to see those fear widened eyes.

All her plans, so carefully constructed, were crumbling around her, all under the insistence they not be separated, that she be their navigator and how badly she wanted to stay with them. She had saved Zoro, now she must save Usopp without sacrificing her town. But still, quick as lightning, sharp as the knife she cut herself with, Nami found a way to try and get them all out. 

So with tooth and nail, and sheer force of will to take the pain on her own two shoulders, Nami was struggling to find a way to save them all. Her town, her crew, her world. But maybe not herself.

Usopp had thought Zoro, Luffy and Sanji were the strong ones. He had never before considered the strength of such a heart.

He'd never seen someone carry the weight of the world with a smile on their face to hide the pain, to ease the worry of everyone else. Who coldly stabs themselves for the sake of another? Who offers themselves willingly to the sharks for others, who bleeds, and bleeds, and bleeds to scrape together a ransom over eight years? Who willingly walks through the world alone?

Usopp couldn't fathom it, couldn't unravel it, was trying but he wasn't that kind of brave, yet. His eyes could see what his mind was stumbling over. This girl he barely knew was carving a way out for him with her skin and bones, paving the path with her blood. 

Nami was orange hair and red, raw heart. He used to think she was his fellow coward, but it wasn't true, Nami might just be the bravest person in the whole of the world. She just always had too much depending on her. Her life wasn't her own, she couldn't be reckless with it. Not until they were all safe, you could almost hear it rattling in her bones. Once they're all safe you can breathe, you can eat, you can rest, you can maybe even dream. He thought maybe once the town was safe, she’d really relax. But you could see it sometimes, in her eyes, in how her shoulders slumped, still so tired, that she wouldn’t rest, couldn’t rest, until they were safe too. Not just safe this moment, but safe, forever.

She was waiting for it, slow burn fire, so much strength, such a long game. Nami held herself in check when all she wanted to do was scream. Usopp could finally see, Nami was fire, burning and warming, destruction and creation. The inventor in him could see, the elements, the pieces, the parts. Quick as lightning, sharp as steel, bright as fire, Nami was made of the most remarkable of things.

He wondered, one night, what you would see if you could look inside of Nami. Would her bones be decorated in jewels, or etched with the mantra she must have sung herself for eight years? Was her ribcage made of gold or steel or pain? 

Usopp thought maybe, if she'd unlock that cage and open it up, all you'd see was love. Tired love, stubborn love, fierce love, selfless love, steady love, selfish love, quiet love, loud, bright, screaming love. Scared to love, but loving anyway, loving all of them, loving the whole world. Nami was unconditional love.

How big does a heart have to be to love that deeply? As big as the ocean, as big as the moon? 

Maybe Usopp is secretly glad he never said this to anyone, because maybe he's actually a little afraid to look too closely at that heart. A little afraid maybe he doesn't hold a very big part.

(He should know better than to worry. Nami made a home for all of them there, slow and deliberately built for each of them, and no matter what happens the door is always open, the fire always burns, and they will always have arms to welcome them home. Sure, maybe it would come with bruising fists and jagged scolding shouts, but only because Nami is also pride, wounded and healing.)

Usopp tries not to watch her, doesn't think she is ready to be seen. Nami puts that nonsense to rest with an iron fist and Beri signs in her eyes. She's here, now, with them. She's making this gift from Kaya a home with an insistence, a strong voice. He always knew, it took love to make a home, his mom's, Kaya’s, and now Nami’s, it was one of those fundamental truths for him. It won't be till Nami sets the rules that Sunny feels like home. 

Luffy may be Captain, and some day he will be King of the Pirates, but Nami was the unquestionable ruler of their day to day on their ship. No one dared go against her decree, and very privately Usopp was glad for it, because her biggest concern was always, always keeping them safe.

* * * * * * * * * 

Sanji fell in love with every beautiful woman, because every woman deserved to be loved, and every woman is beautiful in their own way, and who was he to do anything but love those glorious, delicate, mysterious creatures? He would not deny his heart, nor his upbringing. He fell in love with them all. But Nami was a touch special. There hadn't been much time to know her before being thrown into the darkness of her past, but from the second their eyes met, he saw shadows and ghosts spinning in the depths. Just like the ocean, full of life and death. You don't see that too often in eyes as young as hers, the calm surface, the raging and deadly depths. 

Sanji could only admire her. She had held her own in every instance he'd seen from the start. Knew her strengths, knew her weakness, never lied to herself about it. That was a type of power not everyone mastered, to know your limits, and know when to push past them. To take your losses and turn them into strength. To endure. He knew a thing or two about endurance, but Nami, well he thought she would outlast them all.

It was an honor to fight her battle with her. Sure, maybe some would be foolish enough to say she wasn't fighting in Arlong Park, but they weren't looking. She was all open chest vulnerability, blood and tears. This was a war she'd been fighting for 8 lonely years, all they had done was win a battle, a hard fight to be sure, but even the bloodiest battle held no candle to near a decade of brilliant tactical lonely warfare. But it felt good to see prison walls torn down. 

Nami was kind, in her way, with bluster and bruising fists so you didn't think she was weak. She was thoughtful and brave. But more than that, she was safety and home, because she was the ocean, the moon, the tides and the storms. She was the navigator, she could always guide them to calm waters and safe shores. She kept them going, kept their home full of food and drink and all manner of needed things. 

He liked best that she didn't coddle them, she trusted them to do what they did best, she trusted them to trust her as she guided them through storms and epic battles at sea. She trusted their strength, trusted their resolve, trusted their dreams. 

Nami depended on them, in the way only family does, without thought, without question. It was good, to be needed, trusted, respected. 

Nami was special. She earned his respect, and his love. She was his nakama. She was family. She was home. A home he had been missing for a long time. 

Sanji thought once, while he was cooking for the nine of them, that the very best thing was not how beautiful Nami was, for there are many beautiful women and one could not compare a spring day to a summer night. It wasn't how kind she was, for her kindness had an edge. It wasn't how clever and cunning she was, though it had saved their skins more than once. 

It was how she loved. It was living love, growing love, never perfect always flawed, but oh, so real, love. It was keeping them in check, keeping her feet on the ground so they could have their flights of fancy. It was a ship log that kept their stories, a ledger of numbers that kept them all stocked, a keen eye and quick mind that kept them on their path to their dreams. It was real. Tangible. It was foundational.

It was a good type of love, the kind that you find hidden in the strangest of places. She tucked it into everyday things some older, some newer.

Like how Zoro was never kicked out of her orchard when he hid there for a nap because it was safe from the antics of the younger members. It was how she only made a show of grumbling about the cost of his training gear, but there it was, the best money could buy.

How even at her busiest, there was always a thankful smile for the cup of tea Sanji would bring, and her constant appreciation for the little things he did, making sure his kitchen was always high on the list of where the money went. Not just food, but tools of his trade. How he always, always had cigarettes, she never let him run out. 

It was wedged in next to Usopp’s workbench where she kept him in supplies for all his many things. How she went to him for her weapon, a shared trust, a bond. 

Her love was found in the gentle hand on Chopper’s head when he was sad or scared or tired. It was counted on his shelves full of new medical texts, and her secret stash of cotton candy for when things got bad. 

You could feel it in how she braced her arm against Robin’s back when memories were too close to the surface, a reminder and a promise. The secret smiles, the extensive collection of types of coffee, all to say, ‘you're not alone.’

It was like a beacon, bright and safe, in how she never set Brook on watch if she could feel the fog rolling in with the night, at least not alone, or how if it snuck up on her it would drag her from her sleep and she would join him with tea and a lantern. She knew how to brew his as well as she knew her own. 

It was even in how she never actually tried to make Franky stop treating her like a little sister. Playfully shouted demands to the side, she'd just as often sigh and let it slide. How he had access to every tool she could find, and how she snuck an extra little fridge to his work space to keep his cola safe from Luffy.

It was most noticeable in how she went along with Luffy and his mad schemes, no matter how afraid she might be. Sure, she let her complaints be known, but she was always right there, trusting him, counting on him, endless faith and belief in him. She didn’t have to look when she jumped, she knew without a doubt she’d be caught. It was how she carefully fixed his Straw Hat every single time, keeping an excess of materials in her room so it would always be at it's best. 

On rare quiet moments, if you watched instead of joining her, her love was slowly etched into the whole of the Sunny, as she ran gentle fingers over it, telling stories of Merry in a private whisper. 

Sanji liked that best about her, the hopeful, the wistful, the fanciful, the lived in type of love. 

 

* * * * * * * * *

Chopper didn't mean to, but he admired, maybe even loved, Nami within hours of joining the crew. It wasn't just her kindness and easy acceptance of him as a crew member and doctor, nor was it the fact that she'd made him dance in bashful happiness at her genuine compliments of his skills twice already, it wasn't just that she understood he just needed her to sit next to him as he grappled with emotions. 

It was a few hours in, talking to Karoo, who was speaking proudly of his Vivi, her great kindness and sacrifice, that Chopper learned how Nami had fought her illness, ready to sacrifice herself for her nakama, to help Vivi, to save a dream, a nation, a crew. That she put herself in Luffy’s hands, trusting implicitly that he would save her. It was the quiet strength of how she kept them safe even as she was dying, suffering, fading. In telling Vivi’s tale, Karoo told Chopper so much more about the firebrand girl with her exasperated sighs that was the navigator to his brand new pirate crew.

Chopper would learn, much, much later, about her past, as a doctor chronicling injuries to always give the best care. He would learn how she had been cut and beaten, how she had bled and staggered through a million encounters where she paid the price with her own delicate skin.

What Chopper knew right now, listening to Karoo, was that Nami wasn’t looking for praise and glory. She was just doing what she knew how to do, which was protecting the people she loved with the only thing she had. Herself. It stuck with him, let him grow to really love her, even as the more violent and dubious aspects of her personality established themselves.

It was late one night, Alabasta behind them, and Chopper couldn’t sleep. The sounds of the ship rocking in the waves was soothing, and the little tap tap tap of Nami’s shoes above head focused his thoughts on the navigator. 

Her temper terrified him, her violent bursts were both fascinating and horrifying, particularly when she could lay low even the strongest members of the crew, though she never turned them on Robin, which he didn’t think was quite fair. Her love of money was a constant point of disagreement, and even disappointment. 

Chopper’s keen hearing picked up the moment Nami slipped off her shoes and could be heard sneaking down into the men’s quarters. Curiosity kept him still and quiet.

Straining his senses he could smell the sharp tang of salt water tears, and hear the quiet stutter in her breath. A breath ruffled his fur as a hand ghosted over his chest, counting his breaths in a hushed whisper for a minute before she moved on to the next boy to check their breaths, to feel them living, healing, breathing, hearts beating. Chopper watched her through slit lids and felt his heart shiver with each moment she spent assuring herself they were safe, they were here, they would wake come morning and fill her day with chaos and laughter. 

Nami may be like the very water they sailed upon, vexing, temperamental, violent and changing as the seas she knew so well, but there was life and love in those depths. And she loved them, the only way she knew how, with fury and fists and ever at odds with them.

Chopper wondered if maybe he had more in common with the girl than he had thought before, maybe she wasn’t as scary and as mean as she made herself seem to be. 

After all, Luffy and Zoro were terrifying when they were locked in battle, and what was Nami doing if not waging war against nature itself to keep them safe and keep them afloat?

Was he not also serious and stern when he waged war on injury and illness?

Nami’s quiet steps retreated from their quarters and Chopper could only wonder at the duality of her nature. 

Was Nami really as greedy as she seemed? 

He found himself too afraid to ask the girl with the dark eyes and bright smile why she checked on them in their sleep, but he also found himself watching her more closely. How her ear was tuned to any sound of genuine distress, how her eye was sharp and discerning of all ills and ailments in the ship, in the crew, in the moods, in the weather.

Nami was the full moon on a vast sea, she was a watchful eye and steady guide. Nami was tempest and gentle tide, she was maelstrom and soft breeze. When the winds howled and the waves rose high enough to take them all, Nami was the steady voice, the skillful hand. Nami was the immovable force. No wind would knock her down, no wave would scare her. No tide was too strange for Nami to navigate. 

Chopper liked Nami best when the nights got cold and she’d wrap him up in her arms and cuddle him into the hollow she made for him. He knew she liked how warm he was, but he also thought she liked the excuse to not be alone. Because Nami was a lighthouse. She didn’t play with them the way Robin did, she didn’t play fight the way Sanji or Zoro did, wasn’t like him, Usopp, Brook, Franky, or Luffy. She was different, somehow. 

He liked best that it was him she chose to be soft with, him she reached to and cuddled close. 

But Chopper loved her the most when Franky let slip, so many weeks later, that when Chopper had pushed himself too far into monster point Franky had thought the only way to stop him was to kill him, and it was Nami, small and fragile Nami, who glared the massive man down with solemn threats of death should he lay a hand on her crewmate.

Chopper never let her know that Franky told him. But after that, he could forgive her anything. She may not always love with soft hands in the dead of night checking for steady breaths, but she loved deeply, she loved fiercely, and she would send anyone to hell who dared to raise a hand to those under her watchful eye.

* * * * * * * * * 

Robin understood Nami from the start. She recognized, in her, a child grown too soon, as she had been. She knew those eyes, that set of the jaw, those slightly tense shoulders, for they were what she saw reflected in the mirror. 

Seeming shallowness aside, a wall to keep a fragile heart safe she knew from a lifetime of seeing such things, Robin sees Nami in a way the others do not. She is much like her, a few chapters behind. It is, in some ways, like reading how two cultures can tell the same story with different emphasis, different details. 

Nami is a little girl who had her world destroyed for reasons beyond compassion, comprehension. Robin’s world burned. Nami’s bled out as she was stolen to a world of continual terror. Robin ran from the government for herself and her island, but Nami rushed right into slavery for the sake of love. 

A hand raised by Nami was a hard hand, but one full of love, never a cruel intention, if an iron rule.  
A hand raised to Nami was met with a tightening around the eyes, a slight clench of the jaw, shoulders hunching, preparing for the blow.

Robin was enchanted by her fire, her fury, her frustration. Where Robin was still waters, Nami was raging seas. She lived with no filter, she was who she was, she felt what she felt. Robin almost envied her that freedom.

But much like Robin, the cage that housed Nami’s heart was locked tight. She trusted, but slowly, far too slowly for one so young. She loved, but only in time, in tiny degrees, and sometimes not ever. But her forgiveness, her kindness could not be quelled even by the cruelty that shaped her early years.

Robin watched everything. Saw so much more because she looked not just at the face of the action, but the bones behind it. The foundation, the history, the reason.

When Nami stood at Enis Lobby, there was steel in her spine and fire in her eyes. Robin had taken the time to memorize all their faces, for she was sure that it would be the last she saw of them, and the two that hit her hardest were her Captain, and her Navigator. Where Luffy was as straightforward as a sure shot arrow, Nami was primordial forces writhing under pale skin. 

Chopper had been grit teeth and anxious battle cries, and Sanji had been coiled muscles and an invitingly smug smile.

Usopp as Sogeking was shame, and loyalty, wounded pride, and bravery all wrapped up in a tangled mess he hid under his mask.

Luffy was furrowed brows and unwavering determination, the coiled counterpart to Zoro’s downturned mouth and clenched jaw, steadfast and prepared to do what needed to be done.

And then there was Nami. Banked fire smile, steel spine and fathomless eyes. Eyes that have seen too much, who would not look away, no matter the choice Robin made. Dark eyes ready to see blood or fire or saving grace delivered with their own human hands.

It cut her to the quick in a way she did not expect. Nami would burn for Robin, but she would also burn with her, she would not look away in the face of life or death.

Robin did not want to be another family member lost to Nami, did not want to break away a piece of that still healing heart.

She wanted to believe she could live and love like Nami, all steady eyes and warming smile.

Robin lived.

The next time the girl she thought of as her sister turned the world on it side was when Nami’s past came home to roost with a disarmingly sweet mermaid and a fishman from her history. Robin knew, from nightmares and whispered confessions in the dark of night when Nami needed to chase the ghosts from her room with words and reminders.

The boys had been furious, had been fire and steel and blood on her behalf. This was a crime they would not easily forgive. For their Nami, their navigator, their nakama, they would turn away. 

But with a moment of stillness, and a deep breath, Nami found forgiveness in the depths of that still bruised heart. 

Robin wasn’t sure she herself was capable of such grace. And certainly not with such a bright smile.

That night, in their room, Nami wept as she remembered, body wracked with the echo of a fishman’s laugh. Robin sat sentinel and loved her more deeply than before. 

But Nami is the heart, the aching, raw, frantic heart whose beat is the backbone of their daily life. From depths and reserves that are hidden from sight, Nami finds ways to forgive, to love, to heal not only herself but those around her. Robin found that strength both awesome and terrible, and she would kill to see it kept alight.

 

* * * * * * * * * 

Franky knew that Nami was Super by the time they set sail, because she was on a Super crew and had navigated the strange and dark tides of the Grand Line to bring Merry limping into Water Seven after adventures that would boggle the mind. 

Admittedly, he had dismissed her at first, didn’t see her as someone who he needed to make note of. She didn't seem like a combatant, didn't pose a threat, he didn't know how skilled she actually was. He learned. 

He'd been wholly impressed and felt the suspicious niggling of admiration as they faced down Chopper in his Monster Point and her loyalty and fierceness had blown him away, she would allow no harm to come to one she loved, she would find another way. Franky was amiable, he understood loyalty after all.

What he wasn't sure he'd ever want to tell the girl is how impressed he was that despite the chaos going on around her, how small she was in the face of the might of many of those around her, she stood her ground, she faced hell for the sake of her friends.

Later, when he knew her better, he found himself endeared of the way she navigated the Sunny. While she could sail and steer with the best of them, her skills were best suited to having her feet planted firmly on the deck, body dialed into the air and flow, the ebbs and tides. Like a finely tuned instrument, Nami was all one could hope for in a navigator. The Sunny could reach the ends of the world and come back again at her hands, and what more could a shipwright ask for his creation or from his Navigator?

In the way one does, they carved out little homes for each other in their daily lives, their hearts, their minds. 

It happened quickly. More quickly than he expected after Water 7. Nami didn't hold grudges, he liked that. 

By the time Thriller Bark caught them up, he appreciated that Nami wasn't fearless, she was brave. He didn't much care for things that made her afraid, it didn't sit right with him. He could see old fears in her eyes, things that wouldn't lay down and die. 

But she never let it stop her. Even if it was on trembling legs, she kept going forward. 

Nami was sturdy, and Franky liked that about her. Clear eyes, loud heart, bold as brass, and a ringing voice. She didn't flinch away from the weight of his heavy hands, just planted her feet a little wider. Nami wasn't afraid of him, his cyborg heart or his size or strength. She'd just as readily smack the back of his head as she would any of the others. Turns out, he liked that too. Let him know he’d been accepted into the family.

Franky valued his life too much to ever tell Nami that she reminded him of Kokoro from when he was a kid. How she kept them all under her watchful eye, made a place of wood and metal feel like home. 

He had been that person at Franky House, the Big Brother. It felt good to live again with someone who took care of them all. Even if she was his adopted little sister, she had her way, and it would be respected. 

Sure, she needed a little looking after, the occasional rescuing, she did seem to attract a particular type of trouble, but that's what being a big brother was all about. And she was everything he ever thought a little sister was supposed to be. Clever, stubborn, sassy, fierce, prone to rolling her eyes at ‘boys’ and their antics. But best of all, she was exactly what he'd hoped for in her capacity to love them for exactly who they were. 

It was everywhere. From the laundry room where she made them each a color coded basket, to the footnotes she'd add to the log at their behest for certain battles, or that really Super pose he struck, that Cool Guy line Zoro said. All those little things she did. She didn’t need to, no one asked her to, she made a big deal about it like it was the most troublesome thing she had to deal with, but she didn’t stop. 

Nami was all sorts of things. She was greedy, and loving, she was bright orange hair and delicate bones, she was of the ocean and of the sea. But more than that, Nami was home, was family, was life and love and laughter. Nami was two wide arms and an open heart waiting for you to come home to her, to the Sunny, to the nakama they called The Straw Hat Pirates.

Franky grinned widely as Nami laid waste to the younger members of the crew during a bout of their antics. They made much of the bruising punches and apologized for their behavior. 

Yeah. Nami was family. Nami was home, because home is where your heart is and Nami was the heart of Sunny and all her crew.

* * * * * * * * * 

Brook was charmed by Nami from the start. She was beautiful and as fiery as her hair color. Her fear of his skeletal self was banished with a bruising punch after he asked to see her panties. She remains cruel in her denial. He doesn't mind. 

They shared more than a few things in common, their love of tea, their firm disapproval of all things terrifying, she had a sweet singing voice when he could coax her into song. He appreciated her quiet concern as he made himself at home in the crew. Simple things, like making sure to add his favorite tea to the list she gave Sanji. Did he need anything to care for his instruments? There would always be milk, all these little concerns that she took on each time Luffy brought some new companion home. She did so without hesitation, if you called the Sunny home, you were part of her ocean, and she ruled with an almost secret compassion. He found it endearing.

The moment that endeared her to him forever came some weeks after he joined the crew. 

It was an odd day, Nami had seemed quiet, withdrawn, pale. The others gave her space, tried a little harder to keep calm, she was hardly seen on deck, locked away in the library.

On his watch that night, as he sipped his tea and admired the night sky, he heard padding steps across the deck. A pyjama clad Nami day down next to him, bare feet pale in the moonlight.

Tucked into herself, small and vulnerable, she asked him in a whisper if it hurt to die, to be dead. She explained, she knew it hurt to live, sometimes it hurt more than she thought possible, but she'd never died, so she didn't know if Bellemere hurt even now. 

Brook, who had spent time learning all he could about his new crew, concluded that today must be a sad anniversary. It would make sense of all the quiet oddities about the day.

So looking at her from the corner of his eyes, not that he had eyes (yo-ho-ho-hoo), he had told her only that there had been peace, and all pain had faded away, and when he awoke to himself again, all he could remember was a easy stillness.

It was what she needed to hear. She sat with him the watch though, and he played her songs of far away places. He loved her a little bit for how she would sleepily hum along with the songs she recognized, and he knew it was her way of saying thank you, by sharing this moment of music and peace with him. 

Nami wasn't always what one would think of as gentle or kind, but she was good. Deep in her heart, Brook knew she was good and that meant more than soft hands or sweet smiles.

 

As a musician he could hear, sometimes, the symphony of a person. Nami’s shrill pipes tried to distract the listener from the slow, deep, resounding pulse of her strings. Thrumming with thoughts, with worries, with dreams and so much love, you could feel it vibrate against your bones if you let it. It felt like sunrise, it felt like shooting stars, it felt like joy. 

Brook thought maybe one day he would try to write their personal songs, immortalize the crew in music notations. 

 

Nami would be gentle piano, stirring strings, a steady drum, and lilting pipes, he thought. All those screaming brass sounds were habits, armor, the outer layer of her. Under all that was someone made of lullabies and cheerful children’s folk songs, with the occasional soaring aria.

After the two year separation he found himself charmed all over again by Nami.

Brook, who had been around so much longer than the rest of them, knew an old soul when he met one. The terror of her life had worn her down, tarnished the golden glow and left her sharp, sharp, sharp. But he learned on Punk Hazard that she chose to let her pain make her kind. Kind in the way that changes lives. 

This was closer to her true song. Calmer, more confident, there was a sweet melody in her smile, and her soft eyes.

Moments like that drove home for him how young they were, these bold and brave pirates. The growing pains, the edges smoothing out, it made him love them all the deeper. 

Here were his friends, his Captain, his home.

And here were dark eyes full of storms, and a smile like a sunrise breaking on a dark night. And she still would not let him see her panties. He still didn't mind. (He remains earnest in his quest, but honestly, her reaction was half the fun.)

But he knew it didn’t mean she loved him any less, for still he was welcome, and still his tea cup had it’s own safe home, and still his teas were stocked and ready, and still his instruments were safely encased in soft protection. And still, and still, and still. The list could go on forever. 

Here was home, and home had all the little marks of a thoughtful and clever firebrand girl with a quick mind, and a quicker fist.

Brook had not thought he would ever feel such simple joy again as he knew now with Nami’s routine care, something she did without thought, as if it wasn't what they all so desperately craved, as if it didn't mean the world to them all, even if some of them didn't realize it or would never say it. 

He had sailed long on a dark ocean, lost in fog and loneliness. He had not thought he'd ever love the sea again as he did before he died. But to be fair, he could not have ever guessed he'd meet the ocean clothed in pale skin, orange hair, and a heart that encompassed all he now held dear. 

* * * * * * * * * 

Luffy knew from the start that Nami was meant to be part of his crew. There was something in her eyes, in how her smile first looked like it hasn't been used in too long, and how that changed and she laughed like she meant it, like she wanted to be there with them. There was something he could feel, if not name. 

He wasn't stupid, he wasn't blind, he just saw things differently, had different ideas about what was important. 

And Nami, well, he knew she was important. She was so important. She was sunrise and sunset and heavy hanging moon. She was the Northern Lights and the southern wind that warmed them. 

Luffy knew Nami was special, not just in the world, which she was, and not just to the crew, which she was, but to him. She was special to him, he knew it the moment he put his hat on her, a silent protection, a comfort, a promise. Maybe it was because she asked for his help with tears in her eyes after she'd worn herself down, and that was a kind of brave that made his heart feel big. Maybe it was the fact that someone so bright should never cry like the world was ending. 

Maybe it was because she was the first person he ever really saved, the first person who needed him to save her, asked him to save her. He destroyed the room she didn't want to be in, he defeated the person who shattered her heart, he broke the chains she had been wrapped in for eight long years. He took back her future with his own two hands, shouted his claim and protection from atop the grave of her past. Luffy saved her, and her smile. 

Maybe it was because he promised. He would protect her smile, which meant protecting her heart, because the only smile that mattered was the one she smiled from the bottom of her heart. And that took some doing. He couldn't punch her heart into happiness. It needed to heal, and despite his best attempts, it seemed no amount of meat could heal her heart the way it healed his body. But he wouldn't give up, he would figure it out.

It took time. And saving her, over and over, which he didn't mind. He loved the smile and the way she said his name when he saved her. Almost like she still couldn't believe it, that he had come for her again, but also like she never doubted him, and a whole lot of relief and joy. It was one of the best parts of all the trouble she got herself in.

It took her finding her place, which turned out to be as much in charge as he was, maybe even more sometimes. (He couldn't figure out why her punches hurt so much, he was a rubber man after all. Then his grandpa reminded him of fists of love. Later, with Rayleigh, he thought maybe Nami had some instinctual Haki, but either way, no one argued with Nami and her fists. Love or Haki, Nami would not be denied.)

Luffy saw Nami as Nami. She didn't need pretty words or big declarations, because when it came to them, she didn't use those things either. 

It was the bones of the thing with them, and that's how he liked it. Nami was his Navigator, she was fundamental to his dream, she would take him anywhere, trust him with anything. Sure, sometimes he had to remind her to calm down, stop crying, he was going to be King of the Pirates and she was his Nakama, but he also knew she spent too many years always being afraid, so she didn't have his easy confidence. That was okay, though. Because at the end of the day, she called him Captain, she set her eyes on the horizon and she brought him closer to his dream. 

And he was her Captain. He would always save her, from anything and everything. He would protect her. He had promised. The real kind, the kind of promise he made to Shanks. It was the kind of promise that he made in his bones. 

There were moments with her that would forever stick in his ribs like little cuts that ached when he breathed. 

He never again wanted to see her sick and weak, fading right in front of him from something he couldn’t fight. He may have learned how to put his pride aside, and he’d do it a thousand times for those he loved, but he did not want that lesson at the expense of Nami. But she trusted him, and he did not fail her. There was pride in that, and he learned something about being gentle. 

When they were up in the Sky Island and she was scared and crying in the face of the man who called himself God, it made him angry. Not at her, not really. But at the fact that old fear still lived in her heart and made her tremble. For the third time, he gave her his hat, a silent promise, a quiet comfort, a visible protection.

Shiki would never be forgiven for taking Nami, putting her back into a position where she felt the old fear for her home. For making her sick again. Those two old fears came back to hit him in the chest, and Luffy repaid the pain one hundred fold, for Nami, and for himself. 

But the one that sticks the most like a shard of cold metal wedged in his chest was the look on her face as she called to him, terrified and begging, as Kuma sent her far away from him. Sent her beyond his protection, beyond his ability to safeguard her smile. 

See, Luffy was the sun of the Mugiwara Crew, he was warmth and energy and so bright it hurt to look at him sometimes, he was life itself. But he was nothing without his crew, because he needed them. And he knew they needed him too. So to see his other half, the moon to his sun, the hesitance to his decisive, to see his third important promise ripped away into neverwhere right in front of his eyes haunted him like few things ever had. 

Luffy didn’t like things that made Nami afraid. Not the scaredy cat fear, he didn’t mind that, it even made him laugh sometimes. But he didn’t like things that made her afraid that it was all going to be taken from her again. He didn’t like it when she looked close to losing her smile, the one that came from the bottom of her heart and lit her up like every point of light in the whole world. 

Nami was special to him. And he was determined to keep her near them, keep her safe, keep her smile bright and bold and frequent.

 

* * * * * * * * * 

There were things about being part of the crew that drove Nami up the wall, made her want to pull her hair out. 

She could do with more peaceful days and smooth sailing, she really didn’t like the constant adrenaline and the shouting, for the love of the One Piece there was so much noise from this crew. 

But she also knew that there was nowhere she would rather be than with these crazy Pirates. 

Sure, she was perpetually horrified by Zoro’s inhuman lack of directional sense or skill, and yet there is no one she would rather have watch her back when things got deadly, and she knew if she was at his back she was as safe as she’d been in her mother’s arms.

And yes, Usopp and his lies and boasting sometimes made her want to cry because they were just so bad, but he also was one of those rare kind of friends who was proud of her every achievement. No one understood her anxiety and fears as well as he did.

Sanji may exasperate her and she’s pretty sure she’s perfected her eyeroll because of him, but he could always be counted on when things were getting tough. Not just because she was a Lady, but because she was Nami. And she needed that back pocket promise.

Chopper’s ability to turn from a competent and remarkable Doctor into a gullible five year old was as frustrating as it was endearing. Chopper never let her down, Chopper always took care of her, Chopper always trusted her, always turned to her, always left her heart feeling warm.

And sure, there were times when Robin was beyond Nami’s comprehension, how could she stand the noise and the chaos, and why would she make Nami suffer by adding to it? But she was as dear and as close to her heart as Nojiko, and that was a comfort on the endless seas, and with the endless insanity that were their boys.

Maybe Franky continued to make the most absurd things, and maybe she would never understand boys and their need for weird robots and beams, and why would you even put lights in your nipples anyway? But he gave them the Mini Merry. He gave them the Sunny. He gave her a place to make into home, and a ship it was an honor to navigate. 

Yeah, Brook had a singularly unhealthy obsession with her panties, but he brought joy into their crew with his music, gave them heart when things got dark, and his loyalty to his friends, new and old, made a piece of her heart twinge, because she hoped one day she would know that type of loyalty too.

Nami may be like the moon and the ocean and the weather, ever changing, always shifting, growing, flowing, exploding and settling. But she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the whole of the world, not every treasure, nor every luxury.

Afterall, once you’ve learned to live with the sunlight, how would you ever be able to walk away?


End file.
